Things that go right over your head
by DemonicGleam
Summary: It's a conspiracy! And Roddenberry likes green tea. HAPPY K/S DAY! Within lies randomness and bit of the faces behind the K/S Madness plus someone that doesn't exist, but is a witness to things unsaid.


**HAPPY KIRK AND SPOCK DAY. K/S DAY. SPIRK DAY. ~ ! ~ ! ~ ! ~ ! ~ !**

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My birthday was a few days ago, but I feel more like celebrating this. YOU KNOW YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WHEN...

Haha. I don't even know what to say about this.

**Enjoy xx **

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I could start by telling you something about myself, maybe where I'm from, what I like to do, or little tidbits of my life that might acquaint us better. However, I find that these things are most inconsequential and won't serve much, if any, purpose – this isn't about me...much.

But, I will tell you two things about myself so that you might not struggle to envision me as just a voice floating around in space without gender because I do indeed have a name and a face, and I do think that things will go smoother if you can connect an image to my words; such is the reason for descriptions after all.

My name is Adeline, I'm of average height, a bit on the heavier side, which is good because curves work magic for me; I've got lengthy hair reaching just under my chest, it's wavy, sometimes curly depending on the humidity, and it's honey brown. I dress casually, and I'm a fan of tight fitting sweaters.

Now that we've got that settled, I'll discuss one last thing before we move on.

What is a script? Some of you may know this, but not everybody has once stopped to wonder what a script is - I know I haven't, until now. And yes there is a bit more to it than just a few flimsy pages with lines written on them. A script basically documents the necessary elements to tell a story. You've got aural, lingual, visual, and behavioural elements. Script writers know their characters, they know their thoughts, but their job is visual; write what the characters say, what they do, how they do it – pictures, speeches, and sounds. All visual. Anything internal to the character might be improvised by the actor, not in all cases, but for those who take their job and character seriously, their inner life shines through.

I could go into more detail about the rendering of a script, how it is submitted, and at times rejected, re-written, read and improved, and all that jazz, but let's skip that. After all, you've got Google, right?

When I was 17 I needed a part-time job – badly. I wasn't the most responsible kid and was opting for something easy and something that wouldn't require much of my attention. My uncle just happened to be working on the set of some obscure TV show that I'd never heard of – obscure to me that is. He worked with the lighting on set, nothing special, and got me in to basically run around with coffee or tea for the producers, directors, and even sometimes the actors. I was pretty good at it too - I only dropped my tray once or twice).

I don't remember the exact date, but I had just gotten three cups of tea, and walked into...technically a conference room where our central figures would confer about this or that, though, it was honestly just a cramped office with an oval table with uncomfortable chairs. All you need to know of the decor is that it was bland. I still don't know whether the large plant in the corner was plastic or real. Usually you would always find Roddenberry sitting at the head of the table – duh – with his writers, producers and directors for some particular episode around him. The atmosphere was almost always light and convivial, only sometimes laced with frustration. Once in awhile they would argue about something or other, but most times they would discuss things rather comfortably and with a great deal of friendliness.

When I walked in, I noticed right away that there was a tenseness to the room. Gene, who usually looked absently amused but concentrated, looked undecided and pensive. He was with Theodore Sturgeon, who looked defiant but anxious, and Joseph Pevney, who just looked frustrated and doubtful. Curious creature that I was and am, I slowed my pace and tried to take my time passing around the cups. Yeah, I was dying to eavesdrop on what was going on, which was rather difficult because those guys were seated in silence for the longest time.

Roddenberry, who usually had green tea or coffee with cream, always thanked me – always. I liked him the best. Sturgeon nodded and Pevney barely noticed me at all, though I forgive him because he was intent on a short stack of papers in front of him. I glanced at them and saw Sturgeon's name written as author, so figured he was the writer of a new script.

I was supposed to leave, but they were silent for so long and it was frustrating me, so I lingered at the door. Just as I was about to go, Pevney spoke – with immense exasperation I might add.

"I honestly don't know what to say," he sighed and shook his head, eyes turning to Sturgeon. "It's risky."

"Not if we present it in the right way," Sturgeon argued calmly. "I'd bet most of it will go over people's heads."

"Yes, yes, but this is just so...in your face. There is so much left unexplained, and that will generate questions, and the most obvious answer..." Pevney bit his lip and stared at the script as if it held the answers to his worry.

I just held my breath and hoped that they wouldn't notice me by the door listening in on their conversation. I stared at the papers and hoped that they might give me some answers as well, because my curiosity was only growing and my confusion budding.

Sturgeon smiled. "Well, they'll have to draw their own conclusions, as in most episodes. Gene?"

Roddenberry glanced at them both and then shrugged. "I like it."

Pevney's eyes went from one face to another before he rolled them. "I guess that's that. You know, I thought your little stunt at the beginning of Shore Leave was risky enough, but _this_..." he shook his head again.

This? This what? Could they talk any more cryptically?

"And?" Sturgeon leaned forward. "Did you hear anything about Shore Leave? No! It went clear over their heads," he wrung his hands. "Joe, common, I want you to direct this and I need you to want to. Even if some speculation arises over the meaning behind this, there's nothing there that is clearly stated. We're into the second season and only a few dozen people at the most have a vague idea of what's going on. As I said," he stressed "clear over their heads."

I breathed a little easier then, surprised that they hadn't noticed me yet. I still didn't know what was going on and really wanted a peek at that script. What was written in there that might affect the audience so? I felt like a witness to some conspiracy.

"I will direct it," Pevney smiled for the first time but still absently shook his head as if disbelieving his agreement. "It'll be our secret."

"Well, we'll still have to see what Bill and Leonard think of it," Roddenberry took a sip of his drink. "Though I'm sure they'll be as eager as always." He clasped his hands together. "Glad we've got this sorted out. Joe, think it over, you know we'll be counting on you. Theo, I want some re-writes and finishing touches done by the end of next week, and I'll talk to Gerald later, he'll need to compose a few new tracks."

The two men nodded and then all eyes were on me. Stuttering and much "Uhmming" ensued as I stumbled backwards out of the room. Gene was smiling at me and the other two looked entertained. Me, I just felt embarrassed. I hadn't really figured anything out.

All I knew was that a new episode was in the making, there was something about it that if realized would cause a stir, but it was supposedly going to go undetected, because apparently the audience was either stupid or oblivious...even both. Pevney had said it was obvious, though they stubbornly decided not to mention what _it_ was. "...clear over their heads," What? God, those Star Trek people were weird.

Amok Time aired on the 15th of September, 1967.

And yeah, it went over their heads. All of it.

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******This was such a random ass fic. My God. But I had to get something out for K/S Day. :P **


End file.
